Dalton walked slowly down the wide hallway towards the garage. To his surprise, Cassandra walked with him. She was dressed nicely, nicer than usual for a Monday morning, grey dress pants and a deep blue cashmere turtleneck sweater. His sister never wore much makeup, but she had made a little extra effort this morning. Dalton suspected she was going to run some errands for their father.

She had not said much to Dalton about the Academy, even though she was the last person in their household to attend it. Dalton knew that she was happy, or maybe satisfied would be a more appropriate word, that he was going to be the first person since their exile to enroll. She was so much more accomplished than Dalton that he suspected he did not want to hear how the Academy had been for her. Cassandra had probably been at the top of every class, but Dalton did not envy her. She had more than her fair share of struggles. Almost anyone else that had gone through what Cassandra had to would have been broken completely, but she had withstood the worst life had to throw at her and had come out stronger somehow. 

Dalton had done the opposite. His injury, and the subsequent medical mistakes that lead to his permanent limp, had completely derailed his life. Only now, after three long years, was he about to move forward.

Cassandra did not say anything to him until he entered the garage. 

“Have a good day.” She said.

“Thanks, you too.”

Dalton made his way down the steps gingerly into the six-car garage. The big door closest to the steps was open and Ash waited by the back door of one of three silver town cars. She smiled at him while opening the door. Dalton slid in and thanked her. Ash made her way to the driver’s seat. 

As they left the garage another vehicle pulled up and parked by the front door. Dalton did not recognize the car. He frowned. Visitors he did not recognize were quite rare at the household, and neither Cassandra nor his father had said anything about it. 

“You know what that’s about?”

Ash’s dark eyes flashed towards him in the rearview mirror. “Not a clue. You all ready to go, didn’t forget anything?”

Dalton looked at his backpack beside him on the seat, fully stocked for the day’s events, and smiled thinly. He was almost twenty-one years old and everyone was treating him like it was his first day of high school. 

“I’m good. Let’s ride.” 

He remembered how his mother packed his lunches when he was a child, blue Tupperware for his sandwich, black thermos for his water, an apple, an orange, some pretzels and if he was lucky, a chocolate chip cookie, all packed into a backpack with his favorite superheroes on it. 

His smile slipped away.